If I Should Die Before I Wake
by Nea-writes
Summary: "Oh my!" Mana had said, leaning closer. "You're covered in bruises, too, aren't you?"... Allen closed his eyes against the memory, nostalgia of the familiar bruises Cosimo had inflicted rearing round his chest and ribs.


Inspired by _Matthews 12:43_ by _sutlers_ on AO3.

* * *

 _If I should die before I wake_

* * *

 _No,_ Lenalee had been saying, barring Allen from tearing into a diner. _We're just waiting for Lavi to get back. Ask Jerry for food,_ she had scolded. And Allen had leaned back into the rocky mortar wall behind him, the edges of every brick digging even through the fabric of his exorcist coat, and he had moped. His stomach had cried pitifully, and he had petted it to console it. _Soon,_ he had promised it. Link snorted from his side, but remained engrossed in his book.

Then, something in his heart gave. A sharp tug, a missed beat, a painful twisting that stole his breath and brought color high into his cheeks. He jerked up and away from the wall, startling Lenalee who called - _Allen?_ \- and Kanda who tensed, hand gripping Mugen's handle.

The words died in Allen's mouth, heavy and slow and tasting like iron, no it's not an akuma, his brain thought even as his heart stuttered in fear and his lungs seized with old hurt. Don't mind me, I'm just being silly, he tried to say.

Across the way, so close Allen could jump and touch him, was an old terror.

Age had done him no favors, and though wrinkles creased from his eyes in the form of laugh lines his forehead bore more craggy evidence that he had spent a life time frowning. He was bent over, back curled and gait stiff, like a leg injury had done him in for good. He seemed swaddled in all the fabric a store could offer, and still he shivered. A weathered cane substituted for his dull leg, both ends well worn.

 _Allen?_ someone asked him, hesitant and scared. Allen brought a smile to his lips that burned him.

 _I'm okay,_ he whispered back, smiling wider to make up for his weak voice.

 _Allen?_ someone said, and his heart stopped, long enough that it wasn't until Lenalee's warm grasp brought him back with a sudden gasp that he realized he'd stopped breathing. He couldn't move, even as that old nightmare moved closer, eyes wide with horror.

 _Allen, Allen, that can't be you, can it?,_ his breath smelled rank with disease, and now he could see the dull flush rising to his cheeks. One gloved hand - missing two fingers and exposing thickly veined fingers with prominent knuckles - rose and shook so violently Allen flinched with the sudden fear he might attack him.

 _Oh, Allen,_ the voice broke, and the demon was crying, folding further into himself. _I'm... I'm..._ the voice completely gave way to wretched tears that brought fire to Allen's eyes. His heart thundered, racing racing racing, and Lenalee was holding his arm with both hands now, reminding him to breathe.

 _Allen? Allen, do you know him?_ Though her words were soft as down, there lay beneath them a steel warning; life before the Black Order did not exist, remember?

 _No,_ Allen choked, taking a shuddering breath. _No, I don't know him._ He turned on his heel, leaving to go somewhere, any where, a place far far away from this corrupt and dirty street, when the monster curled before wrapping a wrinkled gnarled hand around his coat sleeve.

Allen reared back, turning so sharply he nearly slapped the creature. It cried out, stumbling and landing with a broken gasp against the slick cobblestone.

Allen found his heart was still. _Don't touch me,_ he hissed, tongue curling with distaste, and he felt something cracking. _Don't you ever touch me!_ It was only when his voice echoed back to him, insane and wild, did he realize he was screaming.

The creature was babbling over and over in gasps almost too broken to be heard. _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry._

 _Forgive me, forgive me._

 _I can't die, not until..._

He felt her slowly let go as he turned his cold stare down on the shivering creature. _Until I forgive you?_ he asked, voice like thunder.

The creature sobbed.

 _I should kill you,_ he said.

 _I would've killed you,_ the monster cried back.

 _Perhaps you should have,_ he replied, and turned, leaving them all behind. He ignored when Link started, following him quickly. He breathed in. Carefully reformed himself. Wrapped the anger down in layers until it could be recalled at a safer time, or forgotten.

Behind him, pitiful wails rose, and he mused that perhaps the circus had done neither of them good.

 _-/-_

 _-/-_

Lenalee, Kanda, and Lavi found him in the arc of an alleyway, hands grasping at old hurts as memories washed over him anew. Link stood to the side, eyes careful, careful. Never letting him go.

 _Allen,_ Lenalee asked, and he shivered, bearing down so tightly his own nails hurt. _Allen, what's wrong? Did you know him?_

 _Never,_ Allen gasped. He focused on Timcanpy pressing it's tiny reflected warmth into Allen's temple. The familiar embossed cross soothed him as it rubbed over his scar.

 _He cried for you,_ Lenalee said, and jumped back when Allen spat.

 _He cried for himself,_ Allen retorted, unfolding himself and cupping Timcanpy gently. _Graa,_ Timcanpy said, and Allen laughed.

 _Are you ready?_ He asked Lavi, who nodded mutely, patting the side-bag filled with papers. He turned down the alley and down another until they found the ark door he'd made. The priest welcomed them, blessing Allen as he passed, and Allen laughed again.

Blessed be indeed, he thought.

He never told anyone how warm he felt in the ark. How welcomed and cocooned. What he mused a mother's embrace must be like. He led them with unerring precision to the door for headquarters.

At his shoulder, Lenalee asked, _Would you have hurt him?_

He stopped before the door, staring at the curving black number, and said, _I would have killed him._

 _-/-_

 _-/-_

It was late. Late enough to be morning, Allen thought. Link did not speak, for once just watching him. The training hall loomed large and cold and empty, dark. He sat in the shadow of a column, hunched in on himself and cradling his knees to his chest. He turned idly to Timcanpy, who had stuck close the entire day, and asked in a muted voice, _Tim, did you ever see Cosimo before?_

Tim hesitated before bobbing up and down.

 _Do you have a recording?_

Again, the golem waited, before tilting back and opening his mouth. Thin light filtered through, and in the vision Allen saw the old circus. It was snowing, and Tim followed a young Allen to a tent. Allen watched dispassionately as his younger self entered a tent he knew to be Cosimo's.

 _This was after Mana,_ he remarked.

Tim scurried through the opening flaps and up to the high ceiling without notice. Cosimo finished his drink and threw the bottle backwards, nearly hitting Allen, before he turned around. His face was wiped clean of the makeup, but his cheeks were red with drink.

 _You,_ he slurred.

 _Come closer,_ he commanded, and Allen scowled before complying, edging forward but staying out of reach.

 _Closer,_ he repeated, but Allen shook his head. _Goddammit! Get closer before I bash your damn head in!_

Trembling, Allen obeyed.

He closed his eyes and vividly remembered the burn of alcohol as it splashed in his eyes, the way his body seemed to cave beneath booted feet and how he crawled miserably from the tent afterwards, retching on the side until the dinner he'd managed to scrounge for was all gone. He'd cried.

He wondered where Cross had been. Tim must've shown Master this. Ah, but after that Mana had left with Allen. If Master had come, they would've been long gone.

He'd been humming. The vision had faded and Timcanpy had curled into his neck. Allen stood as the song came to an end and the ark opened up, as if it'd been waiting. He ignored the cry from behind him.

 _-/-_

 _-/-_

The London air was cold and bitter in his lungs, but still Allen inhaled greedily. He stood on the street he'd been on before, leaning against that same brick wall with some morbid fascination. He stared at the floor before him. Now, he could recall the face.

His eyes, Allen reflected, had been cloudy. Like Mana's often had been.

He blinked, and what he had seen earlier reared at him, black and scribbled out like some child's grim drawing. It opened it's mouth and lies had fallen out, tar spilling at Allen's feet.

He crouched and brought his knees to his face, burrowing his stinging eyes into them. Over, over, over. It was over, he told himself.

 _He's gone, see?_ He whispered, peering up from his knees. The ground was wet from a rain that'd just passed, Allen's hair hanging limp from it's remains. It was slicked over and reflected the light of the moon, turning the world to a monochrome likeness.

 _-/-_

 _-/-_

Booted feet broke the relief, sending waves of distorted moons and stars. Allen blinked up, and his mouth fell slack as Kanda came forward, scowling with the ends of his hair dripping wet.

 _You,_ he said, and Allen mouthed back, _me?_

 _Get up and let's go,_ Kanda said like a curse, _before they start screaming that you've turned Noah._ Behind him stood Link, face pinched.

Allen laughed and said, _Noah are not the worst._

 _Stop that,_ Kanda commanded, and Allen laughed harder.

 _They wonder,_ he said to the sky, _why I live for both of them. They wonder,_ he breathed, the warmth of his breath becoming clouds, _how I have the heart._

 _No,_ he said resolutely, unfolding and stepping forward, boots breaking the frozen black smile. _Noah are not the worst._

 _-/-_

 _-/-_

Link wrung their coats dry and left them to hang. When Allen did not towel himself dry, Link did, rubbing the soft cloth over Allen's hair and saying, _You'll catch a cold._

Allen blinked wetly up at him, and Link laid him to sleep. The beads of his rosary clacked, and Allen reached up to rub the warm wood.

 _Now I lay me down to sleep,_  
 _I pray the Lord my soul to keep,_  
 _If I should die before I wake,_  
 _I pray the Lord my soul to take._

* * *

 **A/N:** A very different style than what I usually write in, but the thought struck me and here it is. Sincerely, I believe Allen would lie, lie, lie, and get far away from Cosimo. But, I also wonder how badly such an incident would affect him. I wanted to go in the route of, say, Matthews 12:43 but I only ever read the Old Testament and that was ages ago. I wouldn't do such a fic justice.

I recommend the sutler fic, though! It features Tyki Mikk and Allen, and if you read Matthews 12:43 (the verse) it'll explain a lot haha. I would like to write more in that style. I love that fic so much. There is something oddly compelling, like an almost forgotten dream, or a nostalgic lullaby. It carries you gently, and leaves you feeling empty at the end.

Edit: FFN took away my line breaks and formatting here is just awful.


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